Letters To Heaven
by jimmynovakuumcleaner
Summary: It's already been a year, and Jacques Portsman still can't get his old partner out of his head. So, he writes a letter. I'm not sure about comfort, but there's plenty of hurt...


_There's a distinct lack of Jacques/Buddy fics on here, so I thought I would write one myself. But Buddy isn't even in the character list... I don't even know why I like them so much. They only appear on screen together twice, and we all know what happened the second time (in chronological order, that is)... This was weird to write. It's supposed to be all angsty and stuff, but I'm watching Peter Kay at the same time and now I don't even pomegranate._

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Jim- no, Buddy (that's your real name, right?),

Um, hi. I know you can't ever read this, but I wanted to do something to get my mind off of what's going on around me. The prison guard was even nice enough to slip me a pen and some paper. Maybe he felt sorry for me.

Prison isn't as bad as it could be, at least. The food's horrible (I've already been here for a year, and I still haven't worked out what half of it is), but it's not like they're going to serve us gourmet stuff. Anyone expecting caviar or fruits de la mere from a prison cafeteria would have to be pretty stupid. They even hold a basketball tournament every week, and the team I'm on always wins. It's fun, and everyone wants me to be on their team, but it's not the same. I wish I could play with you again, even though you couldn't play your way out of a paper bag. Maybe if things hadn't gone the way they did, I could have taught you.

This is going to sound so cheesy, but I dream about you all the time, you know. Even when I'm awake, I find myself thinking of you. Sometimes we're playing basketball together in the corridors of the Prosecutors Office, like we used to. Remember how that Edgeworth guy used to always come out and shout at us whenever you'd try to shoot and hit his door by accident? His face would go as red as his suit while he threatened to dock your pay, and you just stood there, mumbling an apology at the floor. I had to drag you away every time! And then we'd run into my office, bolt the the door and collapse onto the floor, me laughing my head off, you sighing with relief. Other times, I think of when we first met. You were a total beginner, and I'd already been prosecuting for a few years, already in way too deep with the smuggling ring. I probably seemed pretty arrogant to you, though you would never say anything about it. You were way too kind for that.

I feel like I haven't slept a wink since I got here. Every time I let my eyes closes, memories of that night are always waiting to haunt me. The look of hurt and betrayal in you eyes as you slumped against the bookcase, bleeding to death, is something I'll never forget. I hate myself for what I did to you. If only I'd been thinking straight, I could have thought of another way to prevent a tragedy like this from happening, but I guess it's too late for that now. It just sounds like I'm trying to justify what I did. I wonder how things would have gone if I hadn't pulled that trigger though? I'd probably have wound up in prison sooner or later anyway for having a part in that smuggling ring, but at least you'd still be alive.

Looking back on it now, I don't even know why I helped them in the first place. They paid well, but it's not like I needed the extra money; being a prosecutors pays pretty well, after all. It didn't bother me having to fool my other assistants, but you were different. I'd even thought about trying to get out of the ring, but I know that would have been impossible. They wouldn't have let me live, knowing all that I did about them. I'd say that I'm glad you didn't have to get involved, but I guess you were murdered because of the ring. Because of me.

At first, I was happy that they didn't give me the death sentence. I bet it's hard to play basketball when you're dead, right? But now that I think about it, maybe it would have been better If I'd died. At least I could be with you again. But sometimes, I'm not sure about that either. What would I say to you? Somehow, I don't think a simple "sorry" would even begin to make up for it. And would you even forgive me? You have no reason to. I shot you, my closest friend, just because I was scared you'd talk. If I'd have been a true friend, I could have at least tried to explain things to you. You were a detective, so it's not like you could have helped me, but I bet we could have worked something out.

There are way too many things I want to say to you, and I can't fit them all in this letter. So, just one more thing I want you to know; You were definitely the best Jim I've ever had, Buddy. And I probably don't have the right to say this, but... I miss you.

Jacques

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_I kind of want to write about their first case together now... But if I did, it would have to be a multi-chaptered fic, and I'm sure fans of my other stories know how much I suck at updating them. It's just too much work! I'd rather be on Tumblr! ...Anyway, I hope you liked that! _


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